Standing By
by Maz Kazama
Summary: In an AU world where slavery is commonplace, ex-slave CM Punk suspects that new Superstar Evan Bourne is being abused by his Master Mike Knox. As the abuse escalates, Punk can't stand by and watch but with the law and the WWE uncaring, what can he do? Gen
1. Chapter 1

_Hi everyone. I'm very new to the wrestling fandom and probably not doing it right but here is my first attempt at wreslting fanfiction. It's not really set in a specific time period so there'll probably be a big jumble of superstars in there. I think it makes things more interesting and it's lot easier than keeping track of who was where and when. Furthermore I'm having a unified roster instead of the split - my excuse? It's an AU. _

_Also this fic will be Gen because I'm not confident enough to write slash in this fandom yet. Anyway, for those of you who like reading hurt/abused Evan I hope you like the fic and I hope I don't break too many fandom rules!  
_

**1**

CM Punk was aware of the strange looks he was getting as he walked through the backstage corridors but he pretended not to notice. All he was doing was walking alone and carrying his own bag for crying out loud but the crew were looking at him as through he'd sprouted another head; still, he was used to it now.

When he'd been a slave, he hadn't realised how much value free people put on owning slaves. Now he was free he was rapidly learning that if you didn't own a slave, you were poor, a nobody or a 'freaky abolitionist'. Well Punk was a world famous wrestling superstar with a paycheck to back that up which only left 'freaky abolitionist'.

Truth be told, Punk didn't even consider himself that – he wasn't _against _people owning slaves, his own period of servitude under Ace Steel had been fair and just and had prepped him well for a career in professional wrestling and had paid off the debts run up by his father's gambling.

Simple fact was, CM Punk just didn't want a slave. As a slave he'd learned to look after himself and he really couldn't see what he would _need _one for. But now it turned out he might need one just for the sake of it, just to make himself look rich and successful. Well, CM Punk had never been one to follow society's trends and he wasn't about to start now.

Still, Punk had to admit he was glad when he reached the locker room and could get away from all those weird looks. The room was pretty busy with Superstars unpacking their gear, a few running through ideas for their matches or stretching out their muscles...and almost every one of them had at least one slave.

Mark Henry had Tony Atlas putting away his bag, whilst Brian Kendrick bragged about his prowess, all the while ordering Ezekiel Jackson to be there in his corner. Punk always found it amusing that the short 5'8 Brian Kendrick ordering the huge Ezekiel Jackson around but he tried not to show it. He knew it was no fun having to take orders from anyone and, when it was someone you could crush in an instant if you wanted to, it must be even more humiliating. A few sadistic fucks got their kicks out of having someone so powerful under their command, everyone knew it, despite how civilised the government liked to pretend that this system of slavery was.

The proof of the brutality in the system was written in bruises and blood across the faces of far too many slaves. Even now, as he watched Curt Hawkins and Zack Ryder arguing with Cody Rhodes and Ted Dibiase Jnr., about whose master would win the main event tonight, CM Punk could see evidence of abuse on every one of those kids. It made him thankful for his uneventful period of servitude; Steel had been like a father to him and set him on the path of Straight Edge - the first role model he'd had who'd shown him that there was a life outside of alcohol and drugs.

But still, it was none of his business what went on between slaves and their owners, that wasn't his world anymore and besides he had a match to concentrate on. He was booked for a dark match with Mike Knox to stir up the crowd and, although Punk would have liked a better billing, it gave him a chance to practice some moves he'd been working on lately. Besides, he loved feeling the crowd go from simply being relieved at seeing some action after a long wait to being totally immersed in his match and cheering him on and, best of all, he was booked to win and that was always something to look forward to.

* * *

After a quick change, Punk was searching in his kit bag for his tape when he felt a strong hand on his back.

"Punk, how many times do I gotta be telling you? You be needing a boy to do that for ya."

Punk rolled his eyes as he heard Kofi Kingston's colourful accent.

"And how many times I gotta tell _you_?" he replied with mock-exasperation, "I don't need someone to help me tape up my hands."

"AndI be hearing ya," Kofi smiled one of his cheeky trademark grins, "But I'm doing my duty as a friend, yah? You need a boy, not just for your hands, these kids can do all sorts - have you met my boy Ricky?"

"You've got a new slave?" Punk asked, looking past Kofi and searching the room for an unfamiliar face.

"Yea mon, he's badgering Vickie Guererro to try and get a match tonight."

Punk chuckled, the kid was either very naive or very arrogant to assume he could persuade Vickie Guererro to book him a match at such short notice but at least he was ambitious – Punk had seen far too many cowed, broken slaves in his lifetime - not everyone was lucky enough to end up with a master like Kofi.

"Yeah, well, as much as I'd like to meet your living advert for the slave trade," Punk smirked as he stood up, "I've got a wrestling match to win."

* * *

CM Punk hissed as his opponent landed a chop on his chest. The sound of the slap mingled with the booing of the crowd and he lashed out with a haymaker, catching Knox with the back of his fist. Knox staggered backwards and Punk capitalised, taking Knox to the mat with a flying body cross and following up with a flurry of haymaker punches and the covering up for the pin. Knox kicked out as the referee counted two and Punk sighed in frustration, he was relieved to hear the ref telling him and Mike to wrap it up.

Knowing he was booked to win this one, Punk discreetly rattled off the next set of moves to Knox who didn't look too happy about it. Not that CM Punk gave a damn whether Mike Knox was happy or not – Knox was a heel and Vicky wouldn't book a heel to win a dark match before a house show.

The two men exchanged blows back and forth as they clambered to their feet and, when Punk gave the signal, his opponent charged forwards with a clothesline. CM Punk ducked, feeling a breeze gusting over the top of his long hair – that had been a close one! He shuddered as he imagined what would have happened if that move had connected but quickly shook himself out of it – now wasn't the time to dwell on that and anyway, everyone made mistakes in the ring sometimes. Admittedly, Punk had never heard of someone screwing up such a basic move like a clothesline but, hey, they was a first for everything!

Spurred on by a new rush of adrenaline, Punk kicked out at Knox's knee, sending the larger man crashing to the ground. The crowd cheered its approval and Punk held his fist up in acknowledgment, grinning as the volume of the cheers and shouts doubled – even he had to admit he was damned good at his job.

_Not if you overrun your slot you won't be_, he chastised himself and quickly dropped down to the mat, locking Knox into the anaconda vice. Knox struggled and cried out in pain, lasting a decent amount of time before relenting and tapping frantically on the mat.

The crowd erupted as the bell rang out and CM Punk jumped to his feet, staring out in awe at the thousands in attendance, all on their feet and cheering for him. _This _was why he had become a wrestler – not for titles or air-time or the money but to bring joy and excitement to people.

Not that he'd thought he could ever do it – he'd laughed in his older master's face when the man had told him that one day he'd be a superstar with thousands of adoring fans. But the man had freed him and set him on the path to achieving his dream and it had come true. As the referee raised his arm in victory, Punk watched Mike Knox skulk away up the ramp and the younger wrestler revelled in his victory for as long as time would allow.

* * *

Punk tilted his head up into the spray of the warm shower, washing away the sweat and grime from his body. This locker room was fairly quiet which was great when you just wanted a peaceful shower without any joking around or pranks.

Punk was surprised therefore to hear the door crash open and he frowned as Mike Knox's loud voice echoed through the room, interrupting his relaxing shower.

"Don't fucking smirk at me, boy!" the man was bellowing and Punk panicked for a second that there was some unscheduled filming going on here. He didn't think Vince would appreciate one of his roster walking naked into shot on live TV. So he slowly turned off the spray but remained hidden in the shower block, listening to the events unfolding rather than risking walking out to take a look.

"I'm not, Master! I promise!" A younger, fearful-sounding voice replied and Punk frowned...this didn't sound like it fit with any of the current storylines.

"Don't answer back you little shit!" Knox's voice was more passionate than on any of his promos and Punk was beginning to think that this wasn't a skit at all but a genuine honest to god argument between Knox and, presumably, his slave – whoever that was.

The straight edge wrestler crept silently from the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, preparing to investigate but stopping in his tracks when he heard a dull thud and then a pained cry from the unknown man.

"I'm sor-"

Punk rounded the corner just in time to see Mike Knox plough his meaty fist into a young man's stomach. The kid was a good foot or two smaller than his master and at least a hundred pounds lighter and he was lifted off his feet with the force of the blow.

"Just shut the fuck up," Knox growled as his slave sunk to his knees, trying desperately to breathe.

CM Punk felt a little sick. Slave or no slave, it was still sickening to see such abuse, especially over something as petty as a misinterpreted expression. The kid was still groaning quietly but doing his damned best to be quiet and Punk was impressed, he knew he would've been cursing like a trucker if he'd been on the receiving end of that punch.

"Problem, Punk?"

CM Punk was jolted out of his musings by the sound of Mike Knox's growl and, when he looked back up, he found the huge man glowering at him.

The straight edge wrestler knew he really should say something to stick up for Knox's slave who was currently dragging himself to his feet, the wheeze in his breath audible in the sparse locker block. But then again, criticising how someone owned their slaves was a huge breach of etiquette, like criticising someone's parenting and it really wasn't Punk's place to interfere here.

"No man, just taking a shower," Punk replied, tearing his eyes away from the injured slave and trying to sound casual.

"Good. Evan here seems to have a problem with respect; needs putting in his place every so often, don't you Evan?" Knox asked, yanking the young man upright with a bruising grip on his arm.

"Yes Master," Evan replied fearfully, his eyes huge in his pale face. CM Punk got the impression that the boy, Evan, would have agreed to anything, he doubted the kid actually did have a problem with respect. But then again, what did he know? He didn't like Mike Knox an awful lot but he shouldn't make assumptions about the guy.

"I'm sure you understand," Knox sneered as he pushed past CM Punk into the showers. Punk just sighed and reached for his clothing , watching as Knox dragged Evan as out of his sight. All he wanted to do now was get changed and forget about what he just saw and that was easy...right?


	2. Chapter 2

2

Evan grunted as he hauled his Master's bag out of the trunk and onto his shoulder. It was stupidly heavy due to the heavy dumbbells that Knox insisted on packing wherever they went. The man claimed it was because he might want to work out but Evan had no doubt that they were just there to make his job all that much harder.

"You'd better hurry the fuckup, boy."

Evan sighed as he heard his Master's growl from across the parking lot. The man was striding away with long easy strides and Evan struggled to catch up, the bag colliding painfully with his hipbone with every step.

"You'd better not fuck up this match," Knox snarled as Evan finally closed the gap between them, the slave still keeping a respectful two paces behind as etiquette dictated. Evan didn't mind that law so much, it kept him out the reach of Mike Knox's limbs making him less likely to get a punch or a slap for no reason.

"I won't Master," Evan replied, trying not to let his excitement show on his face. He wasn't looking forward to teaming with his master or Vladimir Kozlov but to be in the ring with a Superstar like CM Punk was so exciting to the young man, even if they were on opposite teams. Evan hoped they'd be able to wrestle each other not least of all because of Punk's reputation for using the same amount of caution in the ring with slaves as he did with free men – most wrestlers, Mike Knox especially, saw no reason to use restraint on a slave, it wasn't like 'it' could complain after all, and Mr. McMahon enjoyed the realism it brought to the sport and the increase in cash flow that came with that.

"You'd better hope you don't," Knox replied menacingly and Evan tried not to feel afraid.

Mr. MacMahon had only put him in this match so he could get some experience wrestling with some veteran wrestlers around him in case anything went wrong, and to familiarise the fans with him. The match was really about setting up a potential storyline between CM Punk and Kozlov, nothing to do with him at all…Evan sighed wistfully, how he'd love to be in Koslov's position.

Then again, everyone knew slaves couldn't be heels, who would be intimidated by a slave after all? Evan was okay with that though, he'd spent his whole life being threatened, intimidated and beaten, there was no way he wanted to inflict that on anyone else – storyline or not.

"Knowing you, you'll probably screw up the whole thing like you usually do," Knox muttered and Evan sighed miserably. He was trying, he really was; Mr. McMahon always seemed happy with his work and the crowd seemed to be warming up to him but, no matter what he did, it was never good enough for his master and that was who Evan most wanted to please. If he could only just get something right for once, he might be able to have a week without getting the crap kicked out of him.

"Now if you could be like Kozlov," Knox continued, relentless in his tirade of casual abuse. "_He _would make a good slave, he wouldn't be struggling like a pussy just to carry a kit bag."

Evan cursed to himself – he'd been trying to make carrying the bag look easy but, as usual, his master had seen right through his act. The man was right of course, Kozlov would have no problem carrying Knox's bag – he could probably do it with one finger.

He was just going to have to try and do better, Evan decided. His master was always pointing out people who he'd potentially sell Evan to when he got inevitably got sick of him. Knox was bad but the thought of ending up with a sadistic monster like Kane or one of Knox's buddies like Snitsky was terrifying.

Then again, even more terrifying was the thought of being sold to someone _outside _the wrestling industry. Experienced slaves tended to be kept in the business, traded between masters as the companies didn't want to lose good talent and it was easier having a slave who new the business than having to train one up from scratch, but there was no law to stop the opposite from happening.

Evan shuddered at the thought and determinedly walked onwards, leaning to the side to try and ease some of the load from his master's bag, but still staring resolutely ahead. He'd give the performance of his life tonight and his master would have no choice but to be proud of him – failure just wasn't an option.

* * *

"So everyone clear on the new finish?" Punk checked as he surveyed the men around him.

The confused faces of Ricky Ortiz and Evan Bourne let him know that the two rookies definitely _weren't _clear.

"Kids you need to learn to get hold of the updated schedule as soon as you get to the arena, ok?" the straight edge wrestler gently chastised, watching the two young men's to ensure they were paying attention.

Ricky was nodding and looking a little embarrassed but Punk barely registered that before he noticed the all out panic on Evan Bourne's face. The kid was all-out terrified, glancing nervously between, Punk, Mike Knox and the floor.

"Hey, kid, Evan, it's alright," Punk soothed. "You know now, ok? No one's going to punish you for your first mistake ok? Just –"

Punk was cut off by Mike Knox's sinister sounding voice.

"Well, let's not make any promises…" the man snickered, grinning maliciously and Punk saw Evan flinch minutely.

"I'm sure he understands," Punk countered. He knew he should just keep his mouth shut, that, again, this was none of his business, but, seeing the look of fear and resigned misery on Evan's face coupled with the memory of that awful assault in the locker room last week left Punk unable to just let Mike Knox come up with another excuse to hurt the kid.

"Yeah man, we're slaves, we're not _stupid_," Ricky added and Punk flashed the young man a warning glare, identical to the look on Kofi's face. It just wasn't done for a slave to speak to a freeman like that.

Knox however, didn't seem bothered by Ricky's outburst as he continued smirking at his_ own _slave.

"I think you're giving Evan too much credit," the man snickered. "He's a little slow on the uptake, usually takes a fair few tries to beat it into him," he continued, cuffing the young man's head causing Koslov to laugh with cruel amusement.

Punk just glowered at the pair…what a couple of bastards…before turning his attention back to Evan who was staring resolutely at the floor, barely even reacting to the blow he just received.

"Look, let's just keep to the wrestling, alright?" Kofi's calm voice was a welcome distraction from the rage building in CM Punk and he nodded gratefully to his friend; much more of this and he'd be doing something _really_ stupid.

"Right," Punk began, trying to refocus. "Evan, you're gonna hit the shooting star press and pin me for the win, alright?"

Evan's head shot up at that and the look of bright-eyed surprise on the kid's face was almost comical.

"Really?" he beamed and Punk nodded, feeling himself starting to smile too, the kid's grin was infectious.

"After that, as we're heading to the back," Kofi picked up where CM Punk left off, gesturing to himself, Ricky, Knox and Evan, "Vladimir is going to jump Punk and then do a little mic. work."

"And that's a rap," Ricky finished cheerily, with a little wave of his 'rally towel'."

"Ricky will you put that away?" Kofi chided with a rueful smile and Ricky grudgingly complied before pausing.

"Hey, wait, Evan doesn't have one!" the young susperstar beamed, reaching into his back pocket.

"Here, this is a Ricky O' Rally Towel!" he grinned, but, as he extended his hand to offer 'lucky' Evan his gift, his arm was roughly pushed away.

Beside him, Punk felt Kofi Kingston bristle with anger and this time it was _him _cooling Kofi down for a change.

"Trust me boy, whatever the hell that rag is, Evan doesn't deserve it," Mike Knox sneered, pushing at Evan's head with the heel of his hand, forcing it roughly to one side. "Do you, Evan?"

Evan still had his eyes trained determinedly on the floor but Punk could see the hurt and isolation in them. How lonely must the kid feel in a room full of people who either wanted to hurt and humiliate him or were willing to just stand by and watch it happen?

"No," Evan mumbled his barely audible response and the heartache carried in the kid's tone, even through one tiny word, was gut-wrenching.

"No _what_?" Knox continued to taunt and Punk had to look away as the man gripped his slave's short, dark hair in his huge fist.

"No…no Master!" Evan corrected frantically, his face a picture of agony as Knox tugged on his hair. "No master I don't deserve it, I don't-ow, please…"

Knox and Koslov chuckled as Knox finally detached his hand from Evan's hair, tearing a clump of the dark strands away the roots as he did so.

Punk could only stand there and seethe as the boy gave a quiet sob of pain, blinking furiously against the tears that had welled reflexively.

This was absolutely pointless violence - the kid had done nothing wrong, nothing that warranted _that _kind of sick humiliation and abuse anyway. Once again, Punk was impressed by the kid's toughness; his long hair had always been a target for bullies and pranksters alike and, despite the fact they were all now fully grown men, people like the Miz and, when he could reach, Horswoggle _still _found it hilarious to pull on it and even those relatively gentle tugs still freaking hurt.

"I think we're done here," Kofi spoke up, his voice a little strained, and Punk looked up and noticed the way the man had a protective arm draped over his slave's shoulder. That was how a master/slave relationship was _supposed _to be – beneficial to both parties, nothing like the awful abuse of power they just witnessed.

But what could he do? There were hundreds of other slaves in Evan's position and no laws to protect them. As much as Punk _wanted _to help the kid, there was no way he could do it without putting his career, reputation and even his health on the line.

There was no way Knox would let him take Evan legally after all, the sicko was clearly having too much 'fun' with him and Punk knew he wouldn't be able to afford the ridiculous fee the man would no doubt charge.

And even he _could_, he didn't want a slave. Didn't have the time of the patience to train one and no reason to either, no he'd just end up selling the kid on, possibly to someone even worse.

_I'm sorry kid…_ Punk tried to convey his apology in his eyes as he gave one last glance at the kid. _There's nothing I can do…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone, just a warning there is lots of Evan abuse in this chapter :( Or should that be :)? **

**3**

Punk groaned as Vladimir Kozlov stamped on his ribs; the guy sure wasn't pulling his blows much. Punk couldn't help but wonder if that was Knox's influence on the man. As the man's meaty forearm came crashing towards his brow, Punk was at least relieved that _he _was the one having to sell this beatdown and not Evan Bourne. He got the feeling that Evan wouldn't have to do any 'jobbing' at all.

No, he couldn't let himself be distracted by thinking of Evan when he was in the middle of a match!

Punk could hear the ref ordering Kozlov to stop the beat down and he continued to sell the blows, trying to concentrate on keeping the most vulnerable spots on his body protected since he didn't trust the Russian not to hit them by mistake...or on purpose for that matter.

Tough as he was, Punk found himself hoping that Creative wouldn't decide to take this storyline any further. He didn't fancy having to take these kind of blows every week for the next few months. He _could _handle it, yeah, but that didn't mean he _should_ – he didn't want to be one of those wrestlers crippled by age forty and, now that he was no longer a slave, he actually had a choice in the matter.

Punk was actually relieved to finally hear Kozlov's goddawful music kick in and he squinted up from the mat to see the man towering over him. The boos and jeers from the crowd rang in his ears - his loyal fans, making even a situation even as lame as this enjoyable.

Even when Koslov marched back up the ramp and left him struggling to get to his feet, the crowd still cheered him on and Punk weakly raised an arm in recognition, only half-feigning his exhaustion, before stumbling away to the back.

Kofi and Ricky were waiting for him in the back and Punk smiled gratefully as they checked him over.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, stop mothering," he waved them away with a good natured grin.

"What a match, man! Rally up!" Ricky enthused, practically bouncing around backstage.

"The crowd was so _pumped_, they love you guys! And what a finish! Oh man, I can't wait until I have all those fans waving their rally towels!" the young man rambled, reaching into his back pocket for his rally towel but was quickly stopped by Kofi's dark hand gripping his wrist.

"We all know what they look like, Ricky," the man replied with an air of long-suffering patience. "You don't need to show us..._again_."

Ricky pouted for a minute before shrugging off the negativity and breaking out into another grin.

"Do you think Vince...I mean Mr. MacMahon will be impressed?" he asked hopefully, his smile fading a little as anxiousness began to set in. "I-I mean if I do bad, it looks bad on you, doesn't it Master?"

"You did great, Ricky," Kofi smiled proudly, clapping the young man on the shoulder. "Mr. McMahon will be very proud, I'm sure of it."

"You think?" Ricky checked, glancing at Punk as well, as if needing even more reassurance.

"He'll be proud," Punk confirmed with a nod. "But not half as proud as your master."

"That's right," Kofi beamed, ruffling his slave's mass of hair.

"You did good...but, you stink," the Jamaican with a laugh.

"I think it's definitely time we hit the showers," Punk agreed, chuckling, and, as the trio walked away together, none were aware of the young man hiding round the corner, watching them leave with a pair of mournful, hazel eyes.

* * *

"Evan what the fuck are you doing standing about? Get your ass over here!"

Mike Knox watched gleefully as Evan jumped, spinning around to look with wide, fearful eyes.

"Sorry Master, I'm sorry I was just-"

"Just what? Watching your little boyfriends?" Knox taunted as the boy walked towards him. The taller man couldn't resist giving the boy a cuff round the head as he walked by and he smirked as the kid staggered under the weight of the blow.

"Maybe if you had an actually scrap of talent like that other idiot slave Ricky Ortiz then I wouldn't have to keep doing that."

Knox frowned as Evan began wordlessly re-packing their kit bags, pulling out fresh clothes and towels without even reacting to Knox's verbal taunts. The kid just wasn't as much fun as he used to be. Mind you, as far as his records went, the kid had been in the system for years, since childhood, and Knox figured that there was only so many times the kid could break before he just stopped giving a damn. If the stupid fuck had any sense he would just end it all now, things were never going to stop getting any better for him. In fact, once the kid was too old to wrestle, things would likely get even worse.

Then again, Mike was sure he could come up with _something _to upset the little punk, it wasn't _that _hard after all.

"You listening to me, boy?" he growled, grabbing the boy's arm in a bruisingly tight hold and spinning him round until they were face to face. Or they would be if his slave wasn't such a frickin short-arse.

"Y-yes Master," Evan replied, his eyes were staring respectfully at the floor and Knox smirked, knowing the kid wouldn't see the slap coming. The 'crack' Knox's meaty palm collided with Evan's cheek echoed loudly in the locker room and the man grinned with sick delight.

Evan's head was knocked to the side with the force of the blow and Mike grinned sadistically at the sight, hitting the new target with a vicious backhand that forced Evan's head the other way. There was a trickle of blood dribbling from Evan's lips and Knox smirked, he sure was one tough SOB, unlike his weakling little slave.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to ignore me, slave?!" Mike bellowed, as Evan reflexively licked at the blood on his lips. The boy's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and Knox smirked, so the kid was trying to be brave, huh?

"You answer me when I talk to you!" Knox continued, drawing his hand back and then punching the boy in the gut, he knew how much Evan hated that...all the more reason to do it again.

Evan choked and gagged, his weight sagging over Knox's fist still embedded in his stomach.

"Get up," Knox ordered, and Evan staggered backwards, still nearly doubled over, his hands clutching at his stomach.

"Listen," Knox hissed, grabbing his slave by the throat. "You think you're a hotshot now because you got a big win? Remember this!" Knox gestured to Evan's crippled form with his free hand.

"No matter how good you try to kid yourself into thinking you are, you are _nothing_, you'll always be _nothing_ and you'll always be **mine**."

Knox punctuated his words by slamming Evan's already weakened form into the lockers, ramming the kid's head into the steel doors on the final word.

As he released his grip on the boy's throat, Bourne slumped to the floor, taking shallow, wheezing breaths. Knox kicked the boy a couple of times for good measure before grabbing his change of clothes and storming out.

* * *

Evan really knew he should be breathing – that if he didn't start breathing soon, he was probably going to pass out and _boy_, then he'd be for it. But despite his best efforts, his diaphragm didn't seem to get this and he continued to take shallow, hitching snippets of oxygen.

His vision was blurring, but that could be from the lack of oxygen, or any one of the blows to the head. Either way, he was screwed unless he could get his ass off the floor and into the shower before his master came back.

But...he was so fricking tired and...maybe it would be alright to just lay down here a minute, just for a second and...

"Oh my god, shit! Evan!"

"Huh?" Evan blinked awake and...oh shit, _awake_? Shit! Had he passed out?

Staring blearily upwards, he could see two figures standing over him and he tried to scramble away before the pain in his ribs registered causing him to curl up in pain, groaning and trying to apologise at the same time.

There was no way he could talk his way out of this one, he had no excuse for falling asleep and neglecting his duties. He could only hope for mercy, but his months as Mike Knox's slave and his years with his other masters had taught him that he didn't really deserve mercy.

"Evan, it's alright, calm down..."

Evan faltered at that. This wasn't supposed to happen...he was meant to get the shit kicked out of him even more now. People usually started yelling at him, not talking like he was a freeman...

"God, you're bleeding...Can you hear me? Evan?"

Evan tried to nod to show he could hear, he _really _didn't think ignoring anyone was a good idea. Not after this little lesson, but his head was so heavy and he felt so weak all he could do was mumble an incoherent reply.

"It's me, CM Punk."

CM Punk? Oh jeez, Evan _really _didn't want to look bad in front of _him_!

"And Ricky," another voice added. "Are you okay? Is he okay, Punk? Will he be okay? Do you think he's okay?"

"M'alright," Evan slurred as Punk's strong arms pulled him upright. "M'okay."

"The hell you are kid," Punk replied and, as the man's features came gradually into focus, Evan was confused by the look of concern on the man's face. It was only when he felt the warm trickle of blood sliding down his face that he realised, CM Punk must be pissed about his blood being everywhere.

"M'bleeding, I'm sorry...I'll-I'll clean it," he mumbled, reaching blindly around him as if hoping some kind of washcloth would just magically appear.

"What _happened_, Evan?" Ricky asked and Evan cringed, God he was hurt and embarrassed and now he was going to have to admit what a fuck up he was in front of CM Punk...this had gone from being the best day ever to a total nightmare.

Strangely though, he didn't have to as CM Punk replied for him.

"Isn't it fucking obvious? Let me guess, Mike Knox?"

Evan nodded wearily, he wanted to explain but he felt so tired he didn't even have the energy to flinch when he felt something pressed against his head wound, let alone speak.

"Can you hold this against your head?" Punk asked and Evan tired, really he did, but his arms were clumsy and uncoordinated and he couldn't even _find _his head let alone hold anything against it.

"Oh man...Punk, maybe we should get the doctor?" Ricky asked nervously. "He's bruised like...everywhere, his eyes are swelling. Has he stopped bleeding?"

"It's okay," Evan replied, his voice a little stronger as some of the grogginess wore off. "This always happens...it's...I'm ok, I don't need the doctor. Thank you but..."

"_Always _happens?" Punk echoes and Evan flinches from the loudness of the man's voice. "He beats you like this _often_? Jesus, kid, look at you! Bruised ribs, black eyes, split lip..."

"I don't have to wrestle next week so...it's alright."

"It's _not _alright, Evan!" Ricky argued and Evan frowned, Ricky was a slave too, couldn't he at least stick up for him.

"It's just blood, if I clean it up now it won't stain."

"He's not talking about the blood," Punk explains, dabbing at the side of Evan's head. "Just a shallow cut..." he mutters, his fingers combing through Evan's sweat-damped hair. "Can you stand?"

Evan nods determinedly, trying to look far more confident than he actually feels. He's desperately embarrassed about how heavily he has to lean on CM Punk to get up and he falters when the man pats him gently on the shoulder – not a slap or a punch or a backhander but just a friendly pat...

"You're gonna be alright kid, we'll fix you up."

God it's so tempting just to lean on this man and let him and Ricky deal with his injuries but...

"If my master-"

Evan didn't even get chance to finish as a roar of outrage cut his protest short and he looked past CM Punk to see a very angry looking Mike Knox.

...Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Warning, some more Evan abuse in this chapter.**

**4**

Punk could feel Evan shaking as Mike Knox stomped into the room. The man was wearing a thunderous expression and Punk really didn't blame the kid for being afraid. If this was a 'normal' beating for Evan, he dreaded to think what a 'bad' punishment would be like.

Well, rules or no rules, there was no way CM Punk was going to let this kid walk into another beating – he'd turned his back too many times already.

"Bourne what the hell are you doing? Get away from him."

Mike Knox's voice was loud and ominous and Punk frowned as Evan pulled away from his gentle grip, swaying as he tried to hold his own weight.

"The bags aren't packed, you aren't changed, what the hell have you been doing? Socialising?! Twice today you've been slacking off, I don't know who you think you are but just because-"

"He wasn't _slacking_, he was _unconscious_!" Ricky interrupted the bearded man's rant and Punk cringed, Ricky's heart was in the right place but he really didn't have the authority to speak to a freeman like that.

Knox simply pushed the spirited young man away with a powerful shove as he stalked towards Evan who instinctively took a few, tiny, wobbly paces backwards.

"You should tell Master Kingston that his slave needs some more training," Knox commented casually, casting a glance in Punk's direction before turning his attention back to his frightened slave.

"P-please..." Evan whimpered as Knox closed the gap between them. Punk couldn't believe that this was the same, charismatic, happy high-flyer who had bounded down the ramp just less than an hour ago.

"That 'slave' has got a point," Punk finally found his voice, blurting out the first thing that came into his head, if only to take Knox's attention away from Evan. "You beat him unconscious, he was bleeding all over the place when we got here, you can't blame him for that."

"Well then he shouldn't have forced me to punish him, should he?" Knox glowered, shooting Evan a wicked glare.

Evan simply stammered a quiet apology, his head bowed submissively. Punk could damned_ see _the boy trembling and he felt sickened by it – no one should have the right to make someone feel someone so intimidated.

"Well listen, brat, I ain't got time to wait around here for you. Me and Koslov are going for a drink and you'd better be at the hotel by the time we get back," Knox continued and Punk had to shoot Ricky a glare as he saw the man open his mouth to protest.

"But I...it's thirty miles away...Master, I-I don't have money for a cab," Evan mumbled.

"And?" Knox sneered, his bushy eyebrows raised in derision.

"I-I can't walk that far..." Evan admitted, his eyes rooted firmly on the floor.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you decided to disobey my orders, shouldn't you?" Knox smirked, gripping Evan's jaw in a bruising hold. "I mean it, boy, if you're not there when I get back, you're for it, that's a promise. I do **not **want to have to wait around for my bag-"

"For fuck's sake, Mike!" Punk cut off the man as he blurted out what had been building up ever since he heard Mike Knox's ridiculous orders.

"Get a reality check! The kid can barely _stand_ let alone walk thirty miles up the highway. You're being totally unreasonable!" Punk couldn't help placing a protective hand on Evan's shoulder as he spoke, the boy looked close to collapsing.

"Are you telling me how to look after my own slave?" Knox growled, releasing his vice-like grip on Evan's jaw and pulling himself up to his full height until he towered over both his slave and CM Punk.

"You're not _looking after _him! You're hurting him!" Ricky found his voice again and Knox turned, narrowing his already beady eyes even further as he scowled at the emphatic young man.

"Is this where you're suddenly getting these bad habits from, Evan?" Knox commented casually. "The more you two talk, the worse it's going to be for him so I suggest you shut it now," the man continued shoving his clothes roughly into his bag and winking sickeningly at his slave as he walked away.

"I'll see you later, Evan."

Punk had never heard a departure sound so malicious before.

* * *

The minute Knox left the room Evan's knees buckled and both Punk and Ricky darted to catch the man as he fell.

"Evan!" the two men cried in unison as they lowered him gently to the floor.

The kid's eyes were glassy and unfocussed, his brow creased in pain so the last thing Punk expected was for him to break into a grin and start cracking jokes.

"That was lucky..." Evan mumbled and Punk exchanged bewildered glances with Ricky who just shrugged helplessly.

_Lucky?!_

"I thought...I thought he was gonna hurt you, Ricky," Evan continued weakly. "Good job he was in a good mood huh?"

"That's your master in a good mood?" Ricky cried and Evan nodded weakly, attempting to untangle himself from Punk and Ricky's gentle hands.

"Yeah...I mean...thanks for, for sticking up for me but, please, don't do it again."

"Evan he can't do this to you! You can't just expect us to stand around and let him beat you like this, let him set impossible challenges," Punk cried, the boy's lack of self-esteem was heartbreaking.

"Why not?" Evan sounded genuinely confused. "Everyone else does."

"Yeah well 'everyone else' are a bunch of selfish bastards," Punk muttered as he helped Evan over to the benches. The kid slumped against the back wall, and, Punk noted with dismay that his head wound had started bleeding again.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt 'cos of me," Evan replied wearily and Punk smiled sadly – Evan was a good kid with his heart in the right place, he didn't deserve this life. Well, _no one _deserved a life like this but **especially** not a kid as young and innocent as Evan.

Innocent? Punk thought with self-directed scorn. He hadn't even _met _the boy until a few weeks ago. Plenty of criminals chose to spend their sentences as slaves rather than in prison, for all he knew Evan was one of them.

He doubted it though...for some reason he just doubted it.

"Evan I think we need to go see the doctor, I-I think you might have a concussion," Ricky voiced what Punk had been thinking. The kid couldn't quite focus on them and one pupil was dilated more than the other, the kid listed to one side and, when Punk looked closer, he was alarmed to see a trickle of blood running out the kid's ear.

"What? No...no I can't go see the doctor," Evan exclaimed, looking about in panic.

"Why not?" Ricky asked, "He'll still be here, the show isn't even over yet."

"I..I'm not allowed unless Vince McMahon or my master orders it," Evan admitted, a slight blush coming to his pale cheeks despite all the blood he must have lost. "He's got better things to be doing than wasting his time with me..." the boy muttered dejectedly and Punk had no difficultly guessing where he'd got _that _idea from.

"That's bullcrap, Evan. If you're hurt you go see the doc, you don't need **permission** from anyone," Punk explained, disgusted that Knox would be depraved enough to ban his slave from getting medical help.

"But...but the pain is there to-to help me learn my lesson, I need it so I learn better," Evan began and Punk could only listen in disbelief. "Please I...I don't want to piss my master off any more, I need to get back now."

"Yeah and you're going back, _via _the doctor's," Punk explained, before turning to Ricky. "Ricky, can you take Evan to the medics while I go talk to Vince?"

"Yeah!" Ricky beamed, puffing out his chest as he accepted the responsibility. "Come on, Ev, we'll get you patched up."

"But I-"

Evan broke off as he flinched away from Ricky's hand, his breath hitching as he cringed away.

"I'm just gonna help you up," Ricky explained with a nervous laugh and Punk just clenched his fists at yet _another _sign of how broken this young man was.

Well, he thought determinedly, it was just to tell Vince McMahon. There was no way the man could tolerate this, he was going to end Knox's abuse once and for all.

* * *

"There we go, no problem," Ricky smiled as he draped one of Evan's arms round his shoulders; He'd tried to pick the one that was least bruised and he hoped he wasn't hurting Evan too much – CM Punk had given him this responsibility and he really didn't want to screw it up _or _cause Evan any more hurt.

"Are you okay?" He checked as they began walking and Evan nodded tiredly.

"I'm sorry," the high-flyer mumbled and Ricky frowned.

"For what?" he asked and Evan wouldn't look at him when he replied.

"I-I ruined your night, I'm ruining everyone's night cos I screwed up."

"What? No, Evan, it's not your fault you're hurt!" Ricky protested. "You're not ruining anything, we _want _to help you!" he explained, shocked that Evan seemed to need that explaining to him.

"But it's my own fault I got punished," Evan countered as they made their slow way through the corridors which were thankfully quiet, Evan was leaning a lot of weight onto a Ricky, a sure sign of how exhausted he was. "I was watching you guys when I should have been attending my master."

"I don't know Evan, Master Kofi would never beat me like this. I mean...he'd be so upset if I was hurt..." Ricky mused as he thought of his master. Kofi was always ensuring he warmed down after his matches, that he rested any sore muscles, even that he ate well when they were on the road. It didn't seem like Evan ever got time to cool down or any chance to rest, Ricky wouldn't be surprised if he didn't get a lot to eat either.

"That must be nice..." Evan commented sadly and Ricky nodded, he'd never realised before how lucky he was to have a master like Kofi Kingston.

"I wish I could make my master like me like that," Evan continued and Ricky sighed.

"I don't think it's your fault, Ev," he admitted sadly before breaking into a smile as the first-aid room came into view.

"Hey look we're here," he grinned and Evan just nodded warily. "Hey, come on, it's a good thing, the docs will patch you up no problem." CM Punk will explain to you Master, it'll be ok," Ricky promised, he only wished he could be sure he wasn't lying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay everyone, had a massive writer's block with everything at the minute!**

**5**

Punk could tell that, from the minute he had mentioned Evan, Vince had been disinterested in what he was saying. The man didn't even look alarmed as Punk detailed Evan's numerous, sickening injuries. To see a man who was usually so concerned about the welfare of his employees become so cold because Evan was a slave really hit home how powerless slaves really were in society.

No wonder Evan had never told anyone about the abuse is he knew that this was the reaction he was going to get.

"Look, Punk, I'm sorry this bothers you but it's not place to babysit my superstars. It's like telling them how to raise their kids, it's not my business to do that and it's not my business how they handle their slaves."

Punk could tell Vince was sick of the conversation and he knew he had limited time to present his case before the man threw him out of the office.

"But, Sir, Evan can't wrestle if he's hurt like this all the time!" he protested and Vince rolled his eyes.

"If it gets to a point where I feel Knox's discipline is interfering with Evan's ability to wrestle then I'll discuss some non-physical punishments with him but, as yet, his in-ring performance hasn't been affected and so there's no reason for me to intervene. Is that all, CM Punk?"

"Oh because his 'in-ring performance' is the only thing that matters isn't it?" Punk glowered, just about managing not to swear at his boss, his respectful tones from earlier evaporating in the face of Vince's apathy.

"As his employer, yes, his performance at work is my only concern. His personal life is no business of mine Punk, and none of yours either," Vince replied coldly and Punk fought

the urge not to scream.

"Sir.._please_...He's gonna kill him if this carries on."

And then Punk realised he'd been going about this all wrong; the one thing that would cause Vince to worry wasn't going to be any kind of moral injustice but there was one thing that would really cause him concern – a lawsuit.

"If he dies, things will get messy, there'll be a lot of bad press for the company," Punk watched as Vince's eyes narrowed..._bingo_.

"You think that's likely?" Vince asked cautiously and Punk shrugged. If he was honest, he didn't think Knox was likely to take it that far, but he was going to do whatever it took to ensure Evan got some help.

"Alright I'll keep an eye on it," Vince muttered and Punk nodded.

"Thank you Sir," he replied before taking his leave. Thank you for being an emotionless, uncaring bastard, he thought as he exited the office and, quickly went to find Ricky and Evan. He only hoped things were easier for them than they were for him at the minute.

* * *

"God, what have you got yourself into this time?" the doctor sighed irritably as he manhandled Evan on to the table. Evan tried not to whimper as the man jostled his injuries.

"I hit my head..." Evan mumbled, embarrassed at having to admit this in front of Ricky and CM Punk.

"I would've thought you would know how to deal with a concussion by now, Lord knows you've have them often enough," the doctor grumbled and Evan just ducked his head – he _did _know to treat a concussion but CM Punk had insisted he come here. Evan knew his place though and didn't answer back, simply staring blankly up at the ceiling, watching as it blurred in and out of focus.

"Evan, stay awake."

Evan jolted at the command, obeying on instinct even though he knew that wasn't his master's voice he just couldn't help doing what he was told, the note of authority was enough to have him obeying on reflex.

"Good boy," the voice soothed and Evan recognised it as CM Punk. CM Punk was praising him? That just didn't make sense...he-he didn't deserve praise, didn't CM Punk know that?

"You have to stay awake, Evan, otherwise you could go into a coma," Ricky added, sounding nervous.

"A coma?" Evan echoed, straining his eyes to see his fellow slave. "That sounds okay..."

"Hey, hey, hey, don't talk like that," CM Punk chastised and Evan cursed internally- he'd fucked up again, surprise, surprise. Why did he always have to say the wrong thing all the time?

"Come on, sit up," CM Punk continued and Evan groaned internally at the thought of trying to move his aching body. But, of course, he did as ordered like a good little slave. Moving was a monumental effort but it was better than getting beat up again.

He cringed away when CM Punk reached a hand out towards him and he tried to control his shaking. God, he was such a whimp, why couldn't be he be calm and confident like Ricky? Master Punk was soon going to get sick of him being such a wuss.

"It's ok, I'm just helping you up," Punk soothed and Evan nodded, frowning at how gentle Punk's hands were.

"Serve him right if he does faint," the doctor muttered and Evan sighed miserably – it _would_ serve him right, he didn't deserve to have CM Punk and Ricky looking after him like this.

"Look, are you going to treat him or not?" Punk glowered at the man and Evan flinched, the older man sounded mad.

"I don't know what more you want me to do – I've bandaged him up," the doctor shrugged. "He's always like this, he always pulls through, he'll live."

"Can't you at least give him something for the pain?" Ricky pleaded and Evan tried not to build his hopes up. God just a few minutes without this constant ache everywhere would be a luxury.

But...Evan realised as he watched the doctor reluctantly ready a syringe, he wasn't allowed painkillers, he needed the pain to learn his lessons. He was already going to get the beating of his life for not making it to the motel, if his master found out it was because he'd been at the doctors.

"No..." he whispered, trying to draw away as the doctor approached. "No, please."

"He doesn't want it," the doctor shrugged apathetically and Evan prayed that Punk and Ricky would just drop it.

"Evan, it's ok, it's just a needle, it's gonna make you feel better," Punk explained but Evan couldn't help shaking his head.

"Please, Sir...I'm not allowed."

"I say you are," CM Punk replied. "If Knox gives you shit, tell him I forced you to do it, tell him what you need to, Evan, but you _need _this shot."

Evan just nodded miserably, what else could he do? The needle stung as the doctor jabbed him but the relief when the drug kicked in...Evan couldn't believe it. His eyes were wide and shimmering with unshed tears as he gazed up at CM Punk, his saviour, Punk had given him this amazing freedom from the pain...he wasn't worthy of it but, God, it was wonderful.

"There, we done here?" Evan heard the doctor grumble and he watched, riveted as CM Punk nodded, the man didn't look happy...

"Good," the doctor continued. Look, Punk, a word of friendly advice, don't get yourself mixed up with this one, huh?"

Evan's heart sunk as he listened to the doctor's words. Without the pain he could think clearer and he realised now that CM Punk was going to listen to this doctor, why wouldn't he?

"This brat, he's street trash, he's not like your friend's slave over there, he's not worth your time, seriously."

Evan blinked back tears as the doctor continued telling Punk the truth. He _wanted _to be good like Ricky, he wanted to make his master proud of him but...he was just too much of a screw up and now CM Punk and Ricky were realising it.

"Yeah well, I'll decide how I spend my time, thank you," Punk replied bitterly and Evan frowned as he felt the older man helping him off the bed.

"Come on...easy, easy..." Punk soothed as Evan's legs, sluggish and weary from the medication and his injuries struggled to support him. He held himself taught as Punk led him away, tensing for the inevitable beating Punk was about to lay on him but, as they made their way down the corridors, it never seemed to come.

The wind was cold against his bare chest as they slipped out of the arena and he shivered reflexively.

"It's okay, Evan, it's just a little walk to the car and then we can get you something to wear, ok? I got my jacket in the back and we can crank the heating up for you, just so long as you don't get drowsy, alright?"

Evan frowned as he tried to follow Ricky's ramble and then gave up figuring that, as usual, he was just too dumb to keep up with someone as smart as Ricky Ortiz.

"Hey, Master's in the car!" Ricky beamed and Evan couldn't help but smile. It was mega weird to see someone actually excited and happy to see their master but it was nice, Ricky was obviously a very obedient slave, he deserved a nice master.

Evan closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself feeling the same way about Mike Knox but, as soon as he conjured up the man's image in his mind he felt sick with fear. He'd never be happy to see that man, not ever and tonight he was dreading it even more than usual. The only reason he'd be happy to see Mike Knox after tonight would be because it meant that man hadn't killed him and that, as far as Evan was concerned, was a very real, very frightening possibility.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 4

CM Punk watched as Ricky gently helped Evan into the car. The highflyer was too exhausted to even fasten his seatbelt but Ricky eagerly did it for him and Punk smiled at the young man's kindness. If only Evan had more people like Ricky in his life.

"You two had me worried sick!" Kofi sighed as he fired up the engine. "What happened to Evan? Where have you all been?"

"I'm sorry for making you worry, Master but we had to take Evan to the doctors - his master beat him up and he shoved me and he was rude to CM Punk and then we took Evan to the doctors and the doctor was really cruel and –"

"Woah, woah, Ricky you're going to have say that about ten times slower for me," Kofi chuckled as he interrupted Ricky's rambling. "You're safe and well and that's all I can cope with until I get over the panic you two put me in."

"Sorry bud," Punk laughed good naturedly - he'd been so busy dealing with Mike Knox and Vince McMahon as well as Evan and Ricky that he hadn't spared a thought for his friend waiting in the car for them.

"Evan's in pretty bad shape," Punk muttered quietly to Kofi as the man pulled out of the parking lot. "Knox beat the shit out of him."

"Yah, I can see that," Kofi replied solemnly. "Poor kid, what did he do to deserve that?"

"Nothing," Punk replied through gritted teeth. "Knox just beat him half to death over nothing. I talked to Vince but he's barely interested and now we've gotta take him back to the motel, right back into the arms of that bastard."

"Says who?" Kofi replied, looking aghast and Punk realised that he must have been louder than he'd intended to be as Ricky instantly gasped.

"But Master Punk, _please_, we can't give Evan back to that guy, we **can't**! You saw what he did!" Ricky was gesturing wildly to Evan's limp form. "He-he he'll hit him some more and the doctor said we had to make sure he was awake, Knox won't do that, he just let him pass out like he did in the locker room –"

"I **know**, Ricky!" Punk exclaimed and instantly felt guilty for losing his cool as he heard Evan whimper and saw Ricky's face fall.

"I'm sorry-" Ricky began quietly but Punk quickly interrupted him.

"No, _I'm _sorry, Ricky, I just...I need a little peace to think things through," Punk sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Ricky can you make sure Evan is alright please?" Kofi asked gently and Punk watched with a rueful smile as Ricky nodded eagerly and quickly set about tending to Evan. Kofi was such a talented master, knowing just how to handle his slave. Punk just wished that all slaves could be as lucky as he and Ricky had happened to be.

"My boy's got a point, Punk," Kofi intoned quietly once Ricky was suitably distracted. It wasn't that Ricky was stupid, or that he couldn't be trusted, but he was, in the law, treated as though he was. If a slave was found to have lied to a freeman about anything then he would be due a punishment but, with a situation as potentially volatile as this, he could end up having to lie to the FBI, or in court and that could carry the death penalty for a slave. So, it was just safest for them all if Ricky, who Punk was sure Kofi would admit, was the world's worst liar, was left in the dark about this as much as possible.

"He's got plenty of points," Punk replied, doing a better job of controlling his tone this time. "But I've got nothing to counter them with. The _last _thing I want to do is give Evan back but...if we don't..."

"We'll be accused of kidnapping," Kofi finished grimly.

"And Evan will go back to Mike Knox anyway, we'll be thrown out of the WWE and then Evan will be completely alone and we'll be jobless and probably in jail," CM Punk mused and he heard Kofi chuckle beside him.

"Great plan," the Jamaican laughed sarcastically.

"Hey it could be worse!" Punk held his hands up, feigning hurt. "We could all die, now _that _would be a very bad plan."

"Hey man, don't even joke about that," Kofi replied, suddenly serious. "We don't want this guy as an enemy, Punk - Ricky already said that Knox shoved him, that could easily have been something worse."

"I know man, I know," Punk replied, sighing wearily. "Just trying to lighten things up a bit."

"I know, I know," Kofi replied understandingly. "But _I'm_ being serious. Mike Knox is ruthless, we should have as little to do with him as possible. I _know _you want to help this kid, I do too, but we need to understand what we're dealing with here. For all we know he could be some kind of criminal."

"I know that too," Punk replied, fighting not to roll his eyes. Why did Kofi have to be so damned....rational all the time?

"Alright, look," Punk sighed. "We're all in the same motel, how about we take him to our room, try and find out something about him. If it turns out he's some kind of psycho, we'll give him back to Knox and never have anything to do with him."

"And if not?" Kofi replied, arching his eyebrows, a playful smile teasing at his lips.

Punk could only shrug sheepishly in response as he replied. "I'm still working on that part."

* * *

Evan groaned as Ricky poked him awake. He wasn't sure if the guy was _aiming _for his bruises or just hitting them by accident but, damn, it was tempting just to swat the guy's hand away. They _were _both slaves after all and therefore supposedly on equal footing but, fortunately, Evan knew the bitter truth. Ricky was a good slave who had earned his master's protection, if Evan so much as touched him then it was him who'd come off worst.

"It's okay, Evan, we're nearly at the motel," Ricky told him but Evan just sighed, he knew they'd been longer than thirty minutes, much longer, and then meant he was due another beating.

The young high flyer couldn't manage to feel too worried about it though, the drugs in his system sending him into a sluggish, subdued state of detachment. He'd never had the opportunity to build up any kind of tolerance so the effect of the medication was amplified in his virgin system. And what did it matter anyway? His life _was _just one long, continuous stream of beatings, what was the point in getting upset over another one?

There was nothing he could do about it, no point even _trying _to, so what was the point in getting upset? He'd rather get the beating over and done with rather than spend hours dreading it. At least he might get beaten unconscious and have a break from the pain for a while.

"Evan?"

Evan jerked at the sound of CM Punk's voice. He'd almost forgotten that CM Punk and Kofi Kingston were here too. Where was that again?

"Keep awake," the freeman ordered gently. "Come on, talk to us buddy."

"Huh?" Evan mumbled – no one ever wanted to hear what he had to say. He was just a slave after all, it wasn't like he had anything worthwhile to say.

But then again, he _had _been ordered to so Evan quickly slurred out the first thing that came to his mind. "Wh-where am I?"

"Oh God, he's out of it," Punk chuckled and Evan cringed; Of course he had said something dumb, as usual.

"Well, I don't think Mike Knox will see the funny side," Kofi Kingston replied and Evan shuddered fearfully at the man's words. He really needed to focus but...everything was so fuzzy and he was so tired...

"Evan!"

Evan jolted as Ricky poked him again and he groaned. God, he was tired...was this a punishment? Knox had never used sleep deprivation as a punishment before but...maybe Kofi and CM Punk liked to? Evan was secretly a little bit annoyed that he was being punished by people that weren't even his masters but they were taking him back to the motel which meant he'd probably get less of a beating from his master if he was late than if he didn't turn up at all.

"Come on, Ev, we're here!"Ricky was smiling and Evan just glowered weakly at him – why did he have to sound so _happy_ about it? Oh yeah, that's right, Ricky wasn't the one about to get his ass kicked...,again.

Evan knew it was wrong to be resentful of Ricky. The guy had been really nice to him and it wasn't _Ricky's _fault that Evan was such a screw up but still, Evan hated him, just a little, not for his personality simply for being everything Evan wanted to be. Confident, talented, happy..._loved_.

Evan couldn't even bring himself to look at the other man as the guy helped him out of the car. He tried to find something else to focus on, something _important_ like, where the heck he'd left his keys to get in the motel room. He _really _didn't want to face a night out in the cold tonight.

Evan savoured the warmth as he was almost dragged inside, his weakened legs not doing much to help Ricky lead him into the building. He concentrated hard as he tried to force his brain to remember the number of his room...312, Master Knox always picked a top floor room so Evan would have to carry the heavy bags up as many stairs as possible, he wasn't allowed to use the lift, obviously. Master told him he needed the exercise and Evan figured it must be true as he was always out of breath and tired by the time he'd got to the top.

"Me and Master Kofi are in room 311," Ricky chattered and Evan wondered if that was a good thing or not. At least maybe CM Punk would come and patch him up again and stop him bleeding to death when his master inevitably beat him up again. Or maybe it would just mean that it would be that much quicker for CM Punk and Kofi Kingston to realise what a screw up he really was.

* * *

**AN: OK so sorry that was a bit of a nothing chapter but I hope you enjoyed it anway. Back to the action next chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

**OK, I kind of hit a block with this chapter so it's a bit nothing-y. I found it hard to write at first. I'm sorry that's it's short and a bit crummy. **

* * *

Punk bundled Evan into the elevator and watched as the young man pressed himself into the corner, propping himself up with the wall. The straight edge wrestler couldn't be sure if Evan was keeping his head bowed out of respect or sheer exhaustion but it made for a pitiful sight either way.

"Nearly there now," Ricky announced cheerfully, breaking the silence in the elevator as he nudged Evan. "Hey, Ev, we're nearly there!" he repeated when Evan didn't respond and Punk cringed at Ricky's naivety.

"Yes, nearly at _our room _where Evan is joining us," he clarified, exchanging a wry smile with Kofi, knowing that in Evan's mind 'nearly there' meant 'nearly back in the clutches of his master'.

"Huh?" Evan lifted his head at that, frowning softly and Punk sighed, knowing how Evan had probably spent the whole journey dreading returning to his master, they should have explained things to him sooner...this was just _more _evidence that he wasn't fit to own a slave.

"For a little while anyway," Kofi added, giving Punk a pointed glare and Punk shrank under it. If they didn't save Evan from Mike Knox then this could maybe be the cruellest thing they could do to the young slave – giving him so much false hope and then leaving him to save their own careers...

What a fucking mess.

Evan just shrugged his response, looking confused. "But I...I have orders t-to..."

"No Evan!" Ricky interrupted urgently. "He'll **kill** you!"

Punk cringed at Ricky's spirited outburst. The young man was probably right, of course - any more abuse and Evan was in real danger. Punk could just imagine Knox tossing Evan off the balcony or leaving him to bleed to death; he shuddered at the thought and then forced himself to snap out of it. If _he _was feeling this afraid then how scared must Evan be?

"Look, Evan, your master's going to be drunk, he probably won't even notice if you're not there..." Punk supplied.

It wasn't just false comfort, Punk really did expect Mike Knox and Vladimir Koslov to be either passed out in the alley next to some bar or locked in a jail cell for the night. Then again...there was always a possibility that they were back in the motel room already, just waiting for Evan to walk inside...

"He's **not **going to kill you," the straight edge superstar finished as if he could make it true just by announcing it in the middle of the elevator. Yeah, right...If only...

* * *

The cheery 'ping' of the elevator announcing their arrival at the second floor sounded like the deathknell to Evan and he stifled a sob at the sound of it. God he was afraid - not of another beating from Mike Knox, not even particularly of Mike Knox ending his life, that'd been a possibility ever since he became a slave, no he was just so afraid that CM Punk and Kofi and Ricky were going to get in trouble because of him. He wasn't stupid, he knew the law regarding slaves inside out, he'd had those laws applied to him almost all his life and he knew that Kofi and CM Punk had no legal right to keep him from his master.

"Ricky, go and check if the way is clear,"

"Wait! It's not..." Evan tried to protest, his mind flashing with visions of Knox hurting Ricky Ortiz, all because of him, he couldn't let that happen. Unfortunately his mind was too busy freaking out to help him form a coherent sentence and all he could manage were a few stammered half-sentences. "I can...I should...it might..."

Evan trailed off, shutting up before he made even more of a fool of himself in front of C M Punk.

"Evan, I wouldn't send Ricky out into danger," Kofi explained and Evan frowned...that was what slaves were for, wasn't it?

"_Real_ masters don't do that," Ricky added and Evan wondered what that made Knox then? A fake master? No, that couldn't be right, Knox's had all his paperwork, he'd acquired Evan off the market legally, Evan was sure of it.

"You see him, you come straight back to us," Kofi instructed Ricky who nodded determinedly before turning to Evan who couldn't even bring himself to _look _at the other slave.

"Don't worry, Ev, I can take care of myself."

Punk nodded his agreement but inside he was cringing at Ricky's naivety, the man had no idea what Mike Knox was capable of...no idea at all.

"How's the head, kid?" Punk asked as Ricky left the elevator and Evan kept his gaze rooted on the floor as he answered with what he knew was expected of him.

"I-I'm fine, thank you."

"Yeah, right..." Punk drawled sounding unimpressed and Evan wondered what he'd said that was wrong. "Now how about some honesty?"

Honesty? Evan could feel his hands trembling and he stuffed them in the pockets of the too-big coat Ricky had draped over him in the car, hoping CM Punk hadn't noticed. He _hated _this game, the whatever-you-answer-you're-going-to-get-a-beating-game, if he told the truth he'd be beaten for complaining and if he said he was fine he'd be beaten for lying. For some stupid reason he'd honestly believed CM Punk wouldn't play these kinds of games...this just served him right for being so naive.

Whatever, Evan thought miserably. Knox was going to beat the shit out of him in a few hours anyway, it wasn't like he had anything to lose he decided as he mumbled his honest reply.

"...Hurts...a lot." And then at the disappointed look on Punk's face he quickly added "Sorry."

Sorry for being so weak, sorry for still being in pain despite Punk trying to help, sorry for having them all hiding in an elevator when they should be relaxing in the room.

"Yeah, I bet..." Punk replied sounding almost..sympathetic and Evan just shrugged again, bewildered by this apparently pointless conversation – if it wasn't to order him around or punish him then why would anyone want to talk to him?

"All clear!"

Evan flinched as Ricky's cheerful voice echoed down the hallway but he was glad of the distraction, at least he didn't have to speak any more.

"Come on, kid," Punk smiled, tugging encouragingly on Evan's arm. "It's time we had a little talk."

...Or maybe he wasn't going to be so lucky after all.

* * *

**OK, next chapter is Evan's apst, it will be better than this one I promise - Merry Christmas! **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: been a long time guys, I'm sorry! This chapter isn't so great but I'm gradually getting back into the swing of things! **

Chapter 8

Punk watched as Ricky lead Evan out of the bathroom, he hoped the kid hadn't found it too embarrassing being having someone in the bathroom while he showered but he wasn't going to risk leaving him alone. And hell, anyone who was embarrassed about showering with other guys _really _didn't last long in the wrestling business.

"You okay, Evan?" Punk asked as the slave stepped into the room, following a pace behind Ricky and keeping his eyes on the floor. The kid was swamped in one of Punk's tee shirts, and a pair of Kofi's sweatpants but Punk had to admit he liked the look of his merchandise on Evan, liked the kid associated with him in some way, maybe people wouldn't fuck with the kid so much if they thought Punk was watching out for him...

Evan's feet were bare, sinking into the deep plush carpet and it somehow made the kid seem more vulnerable, only highlighting his slave status. Punk noted with a smile that Ricky had tucked one of his rally towels into the back pocket of Kofi's sweats – so now Evan had something from all of them.

"Evan?" Punk repeated when the slave didn't respond.

"I'm fine Sir," Evan replied in the same rote monotone he had used in the lift.

"Honesty, Evan, remember?" Punk raised his eyebrows even though Evan, staring resolutely at his feet, wouldn't see it.

"I enjoyed the warm shower," Evan replies shyly and punk exchanges glances with Kofi, Evan was talking like a warm shower was out of the ordinary for him. "I should get back to my master though."

"He's not there," Ricky pipes up drawing confused looks from everyone in the room.

"How do you know?" Kofi asked and Ricky immediately shrank under his master's gaze. The kid really and truly was a terrible liar. Punk knew without a doubt what Kofi's next question would be and he smirked as the Jamaican spoke word for word what Punk had expected.

"What have you done?"

"I...uh..." Ricky scratched at the back of his head as he joined Evan in staring at the floor. "I knocked on his door, to see if he was in there."

Punk watched Kofi's face harden, nothing pissed the man off more than his slaves putting themselves in unnecessary danger and what Ricky had done was incredibly stupid and dangerous.

"You did what?" Kofi demanded and Ricky cringed, mumbling his answer and Punk watched Kofi draw himself up to his full, impressive height, evidently master-mode was fully switched on.

"I didn't hear that, Ricky," the man stated, his tone implying that this would be Ricky's one and only warning.

"I wanted to see if he was in there. I-I thought that if he wasn't in his room we could all relax a bit," Ricky ended his explanation with a hopeful smile which faded from his face as he looked up just in time to see the thunderous expression on his master's face.

"And you thought that was a good idea?" Kofi asked and Punk stifled his laugh as Ricky tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. He somehow knew that Kofi wouldn't appreciate his friend laughing out loud during one of his tirades.

"I told you that if you saw him..."

Punk stopped listening as he switched his attention from Kofi and Ricky to Evan and his eyes widened as he took in the slave's state. The high-flyer was as white the motel wall he was currently trying to press himself into, his eyes wide and afraid as his entire body trembled, Punk could see it even from the other side of the room.

"Guys...guys...can you take this outside?" he blurted, nodding his head towards Evan and smiling his thanks when Kofi wordlessly grabbed Ricky by the ear and tugged him out of the room leaving Punk alone with Evan.

Punk took a long look at the terrified young slave and sighed; this was going to be a tough one...

* * *

"Okay...it's okay..." CM Punk wasn't sure if he was reassuring Evan or himself as mumbled soothing nonsense, manoeuvring himself onto the edge of the bed. Sitting crossed legged at the foot of the queen size bed he ensured that he was lower than Evan remembering how Knox had towered over the smaller man.

"You scared, kid?" the straight edge wrestler asked, not a hint of mockery in his sympathetic tone.

Evan nodded miserably in reply and, with his closer vantage point, Punk could see tears trickling down the kid's face.

"Of Kofi?" Punk clarified when it was clear Evan wasn't going to give up much voluntarily and the kid nodded again.

"He won't hurt you," Punk explained gently. "Look at me, he won't hurt you, you're safe around him. He's just mad because Ricky put himself in danger."

Evan glanced up briefly, obeying Punk's request for a moment before fixing his gaze back on the floor. Punk felt his heart break, Knox really had broken the kid's spirit to have him so afraid of even Kofi Kingston who had barely even raised his voice.

"I don't mind if he hurts _me_," Evan mumbled, finally breaking his silence.

_Oh. _"You're worried he's going to hurt Ricky?"

Evan nodded and Punk's heart broke a little more.

"Listen kid between you and me, Kofi's a soft touch, worst Ricky will get is a slap on the wrists."

Evan looked up, clearly disbelieving but trying to hide it, and Punk just smiled softly. "You'll see," he promised and Evan just shrugged with one shoulder.

"Yes Sir," the poor boy's voice was a mere whisper, his gaze trained submissively back on the floor.

"How's the pain now?" Punk asked, watching as Evan cringed a fraction. Was that something Knox had taunted him with? Punk found himself almost dreading the young slave's answer.

"...Fine Sir."

Punk rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, sweeping his eyes over Evan's horrifying collection of bruises and gashes. The kid needed rest and food and a gentle touch and Punk felt sick knowing he was going to have to hand the kid back to the man who put him through all that and would probably give him more.

"Is it worse than before? Are the meds wearing off?" Punk prompted. He knew the answer to both his questions was inevitably yes but he was interested to see if Evan would admit it.

"Be honest," Punk prompted. "You won't get into trouble, I won't hurt you, no matter what you say."

And Punk was alarmed when Evan's features crumpled, tears spilling out of his wide, frightened eyes and tricking over the scrapes and bruises on his face.

"Y-yes sir," Evan stammered. "But I deserve it, Sir, I-"

"Shh, shush, why don't you sit down?" Punk asked gently, silencing Evan's tearful attempts to justify his abuse, to make up for the 'sin' of admitting he was in pain. "Get some rest. I'll watch out for you."

"My master..." Punk watched as Evan's gaze darted briefly behind him, clearly a reflex from thinking about Knox. "He-"

"I'll deal with him, you just sit down, take a rest," Punk assured the younger man, his heart breaking at the fear in Evan's eyes. The straight edge superstar's heart dropped into his stomach when he watched Evan ignore the various seats and the couch that come as standard when the WWE put you up in five star hotels, and instead sat himself down on the floor.

Was it just because he was too weary to walk to any of the furniture, or was this yet more evidence of Mike Knox's sick abuse? Punk shook his head slowly before lowering himself from the side of the bed until he too was seated on the motel carpet opposite Evan.

It felt odd, sitting on the floor of a motel room, arms length away from a near-stranger and wanting nothing more than to save his life. A near stranger...that was something that needed to change.

"So, Evan, since we're both...comfortable, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Wh...what do you want to know?" Evan's voice sounded timid and afraid in the quiet of the motel room and, CM Punk gave a little chuckle. That was a pretty damn good question.

What _did _he want to know? That was easy enough. "Everything, Evan, I want you to tell me everything."


End file.
